The ArtStreet location, an old lumber mill, was veiled by a heavy downpour that continued almost non-stop for weeks while I trenched through muddied piles of archived objects—once purposeful—needing a pulse. Intercom phones, an old firehose, wood scraps, 10’ long saw dust bags, giant bolts and washers, artificial grass, and more were washed, layered with paint, chrome plated, framed, sketched and fused with other materials. The ArtStreet room became a “white cube” exhibition space for these objects to greet visitors, enjoy their freedom from useful preconceptions and be experienced phenomenologically.